Screw Our Lives, Let's Get Some IHOP
by everyone'ssister
Summary: Tag for 12.19, The Future. Life is crap, but sometimes you just have to put that all behind you and look to the people you love and the things you love. For Dean that's Sam and IHOP.
1. Part 1

SCREW OUR LIVES, LET'S GET SOME IHOP

Part 1.

Sam is the first to wake up. His head is throbbing, his body aching in rhythm with his heartbeat. He groans pressing his palms into the dirt and pushing himself up, he closes his eyes as the world spins and his side and chest set aflame with pain. A few labored breaths and he's slowly calming himself, telling himself he's lived through this before and fighting the shock off.

Dean is lying at his feet, still out cold and Sam shudders remembering the way his older brother had been holding his arm...it'd been broken no mistaking that. He'd seen the lines of agony in Dean's face and the dullness of his eyes. Sam sighs in relief knowing he is healed. He crawls over to his brother on his hands and knees and pulls Dean's head to rest on his thigh instead of the dirt.

God, he's tired...they'd been so close, they had almost done something right...that just wasn't good enough. And now they had lost Cas too. Not that it was too much of a shocker. Sam had sensed something off with Cas as much as Dean had, and they had both been arming themselves for something big.

Was Dean prepared for this though? Sam's insides ache along with his body at the thought of what internal agonies Dean would endure with this betrayal. Sam doesn't doubt that they can survive and grow through this, after all it had been years now and every turn for the worse had only welded the brother's closer and closer...

...but that didn't mean Sam was willing for his brother to be hurt...if it meant Dean didn't have to hurt he would have been a stranger to his sibling.

Dean smacks his lips and turns his head towards Sam, his eyes open slowly, with quick flutters of his lashes. Sam sees the exact moment reality hits him again. His eyes go sharp, the lines and wrinkles back to his face. He grunts turning and pushing himself up, glancing to the lightening sky...morning was coming.

He allows himself to slump a little across from Sam, their knees nearly touching.

"You okay?" He asks, voice deep and rough with disuse.

Sam nods, though he knows Dean catches his wince. "You?"

"I'm good," Dean says simply, his eyes going absent and faraway as he stands and slips one arm over Sam's shoulders and under one of his armpits, hoists him up with a grunt and Sam hisses with the burning in his body. "He could have at least healed you too before gallivanting off." He grumbles under his breath, ill with Sam's pain.

"Shoulda seen this coming," he says next, his voice deeper and sadder. "This is my fault, shoulda never trusted him."

"Hey." Sam stops him, even as his older brother helps him towards the impala. "It's not anyone's fault, okay...we tried our best that's what counts." He assures as Dean lowers him into the passenger seat.

"It doesn't count when our best isn't enough." Dean says, guilt and disappointment ripe in his gaze looking back over the playground, the morning stillness crawling over it. "Damnit!" He says through gritted teeth and fists clenched, "Can't believe we lost them again!"

Sam winces with the angry tones, curls an arm protectively over his stomach, his skin feeling hot and tight and his eyes burning. "Nothing we can do now," he says softly and watches as Dean shoulders slump and turns back to Sam, turning his back to the rest of the world and Sam feels bad, but he's not gonna lie. Dean's anger is gone, and the worried, big brother expression instead of livid rage is a welcome change.

He's surprised when Dean's fingers land on his forehead, brushing away hair and then turning so the back of his knuckles feels his temperature. Dean expression sharpens with worry and he leans down in front of Sam, his hand catching his little brother's jaw and pulling his head down so he can check his eyes.

"Do you have a fever?" He asks rhetorically, and Sam gets goosebumps as Dean counts his pulse at the base of his neck.

"I feel..." he starts but then stops really thinking about the way he feels. And Dean is here in front of him warm and strong and they tried, but they failed...and Sam's at his wits end, at the end of his rope, he'd been burning the candle at both ends and now here he is, his body aching, his mind and heart confused and Dean's attention is on him. And maybe this makes him a selfish bastard but suddenly he can relax with the familiar knowledge that big brother has got it.

"...I feel not good." Is what ends up coming out of his mouth, and Dean looks even more worried with that.

Dean glances over his shoulder, "That stupid bench just had to be there..." he grumbles heatedly and before Sam can stop him he's pulling his plaid and t-shirt up and exposing his midriff to the cool morning air, his belly sucks in with the surprise of the chill but Dean's eyes are glued onto the bruises there.

"Pretty sure it's not the bench's fault, Dean." He says with a nervously laugh as Dean reaches out to touch, "It's an inanimate object, incapable of thought or fee...oh...shitthathurts..." Rushes out in a breath and Dean scowls at him.

'Shut up you idiot! You're really hurt. But I guess you're right..." he picks up in their banter as with gentle fingers he checks Sam for broken ribs, "...it wasn't really the bench's fault, but THAT bitch Dagon's."

Dean breaks off, and doesn't finish as Sam clenches his hand into a fist in Dean's coat sleeve when the older brother touches a particularly sensitive spot. "Can we please just leave it at I've got some broken ribs?" He asks, because frankly it feels like even the brush of the morning breeze is causing Sam pure agony.

"I'm going to kill her." Dean says simply not even looking at Sam as his little brother shivers with the darkness of it, just simply says it, it's not a threat or even really a promise just a statement...a statement they both knew he'd live up to.

He grabs the first aide kit and grimaces for Sam, "C'mon get up, there's no way in hell you're gonna be able to ride back like that."

Sam bites his bottom lip so hard he tastes the copper of his own blood as he takes Dean's hand and he stands. He sways and Dean eyes him carefully while helping him strip off his coat and plaid button up. His eyes are smarting with hot tears by the time it's done and when Dean reaches for the hem of his t-shirt he grabs his hand.

"Please Dean," he says and then clears his throat, looking to him through his hair fallen back into his eyes, "I can't, please don't make me take it off."

Dean's eyes soften and he nods, gently rucking the material up and Sam holds it down that way with his chin as Dean starts to wrap his stomach and lower chest as carefully as he can. The bandage is tight but Sam knows that's the way it's got to be if it's going to help him any. And he explicitly trusts Dean, knows his older brother will unerringly do what's best for him.

"Crap I forgot," he says while gritting his teeth, watching Dean's hands work so quickly and deftly. "She broke the colt." God, Dean was going to be heart broken.

"Screw the colt." Dean growls as he tears off some medical tape and begins to secure his wrapping job. "She better hope for her shitty life's sake she ain't broke you."

Sam chest warms and he looks down at Dean with a small, tired happy grin. "Jeez, you're grumpy this morning."

Sam can hear Dean trying to hide his smile as he rummages through the meds looking for some pain killers for him, "Yeah well, sleeping in the dirt will do that to a man."

"Yeah, you're gonna be stiff as a board old man." He says, giving Dean a saucy grin as his older brother places three pills in his palm. Dean gives him his middle finger as he puts everything away and hands him a bottle of water.

Sam laughs, but winces with the way it makes him ache.

"You hungry for some breakfast?" Dean asks.

"Hell yes," Sam says breathlessly as he eases back into the impala, Dean holding his elbow.

Dean closes his door and cranks Baby, as they drive away Sam looks back to the play ground, thinks about what went down there last night...the colt, Dagon, Kelly and...Cas.

"What are we gonna do, Dean?" He asks softly, feeling doubt and hopelessness descending on him and Dean glances back to the playground as well as the sun rises casting a little more light on it.

"I don't know Sam but we did our best and that's what counts..." Sam smiles brightly at him as his own words are repeated back to him. "You know our lives," Dean goes on, "We worry and we stress and we don't sleep until this is all over but you know what?"

"What?" Sam asks, has no idea where this is going.

"Screw our lives, let's get some IHOP."

Sam honest to God throws his head back and laughs, and no, he doesn't care that it hurts like hell.

...tbc

Loved this episode a lot! REVIEW!? ;);)

((A little something else coming taking place at the bunker.)):)


	2. Part 2

Part 2.

Sam stands in front of his mirror shirtless, looking rather emotionlessly at the left side of his body. The smooth skin mottled with bruises disappearing under the waistband of his sweats, rising up under his armpit and curling around his back, his arm is throbbing and bruised too. The bandage lays unwound at his feet in piles of white and he sighs, feeling the pain killers beginning to wearing off.

He and Dean had eaten breakfast and taken their own sweet time about too. With fresh, hot coffee they'd hit the road towards home. Something inside them both resting easier the second the bunker door clanged shut behind them, and when Dean turned the lock, closing the rest of the world out, it was with relieved breaths and glances they exchanged.

Sam had immediately made his way to the shower, unwrapping his aching middle and stepping under the near scalding spray, the heat and the steam relaxing his body, mind and muscles. He washes the dirt and sweat from his hair, washes the feeling of residue power off his skin from Dagon and Cas...it was something you could feel.

Nearly like being violated, but knowing it was for good reasons. He can feel Cas' grace dying inside him after knocking him out, can only imagine it's worse for Dean, who he had healed. Sam had felt that before, like having the living essence of something strange inside you for twelve hours, it made your skin itch, made you feel dirty and wrong.

Now he spreads a minty lotion over his skin, a soothing burning sensation blooming from it. A trick he and Dean had learned long ago. Instead of taking the pain of raising his arms above his head and slipping on a shirt he ops for pulling on a hoodie and zipping it up part ways. He heads to the kitchen, rubbing at his tired eyes, a warm cup of chai tea on his mind.

He finds Dean has beat him to the kitchen, his older brother nursing an inch or so of liquor in his sweats and a t shirt sticking to his skin wetly at some spots, on the kitchen floor his back against the cabinets as was his wont when he felt like he needed to escape everything for a little while. He's looking over news reports unconcernedly, sends Sam a tired, but not downcast smile.

Sam just shakes his head fondly and puts the kettle on to boil, prepares the tea bag in his mug. Dean is quiet, and Sam follows suit, doesn't want to break this peaceful aura that Dean has created and he's stumbled into. He feels his body and soul beginning to relax, his mind accepting the calming vibes coming from his older brother.

He brushes hair from his eyes as he pours steaming water into his mug and waits for it to steep, adding a small amount of sugar and some milk. He grunts a little as he lowers himself to the floor, with some pain, to sit beside Dean who sends him a scolding look. Sam gives him no reactions just sighs with relief as he's finally still and feels his fingers being warmed by the warmth of his cup.

Dean reaches over with his whiskey glass and pours a generous amount into Sam's tea before the younger Winchester can even react. Dean chuckles and reaches up to ruffle his hair with a smile on his face.

"Dean," he whines, twirling the tea to mix the two drinks anyways.

"What?" Dean just snorts, "It'll help you sleep. Woulda slipped you some anyways, bet it'll be good in that tea too."

Sam presses his lips into a thin line but takes a testing sip of his spiked tea anyways. His countenance brightens as the liquid hits his taste buds.

"Huh?" Dean asks, a sly smirk on his lips.

"Okay..." Sam hesitantly agrees, "Its pretty good."

"Yeah?" Dean asks, "Lemme taste."

Without further ado he takes Sam's tea off his hands and samples it, a satisfied hum rumbling in his chest at the taste.

"Give it back," Sam demands as Dean tries to pull away from his hands.

"It's good..." Dean whines, "...and it's my invention." He watches with longing, doe eyes as Sam takes it back, prying his fingers from the cup.

He takes a long sip of straight liquor mourning his loss and now it's Sam's turn to smirk.

"What are you looking at?" Sam asks softly, nodding his head towards the laptop on Dean's legs.

Dean shrugs, "Habit I guess, just checking for news of the weird."

Sam reaches out his hand and shuts the lid and shaking his head when Dean gives him a pleading look. "It's called deflection and denial, Dean."

"Oh god," Dean groans, "Do we have to hug?"

Sam rolls his eyes and goes back to sipping his tea. Dean heaves a heavy sigh, placing the laptop on the floor and running hands in a rough drag down his face. Sam waits, can see his big brother gearing himself up, readying himself to talk and open himself up to Sam.

"What the hell we gonna do about Kelly and Cas?" He asks first, doesn't wait because he knows Sam doesn't have the answers which is totally unfair. "And we lost the colt, like permanently, which makes the whole thing a miserable fail no matter how you look at it."

He heaves another sigh, twirling the amber liquid around in his glass before taking another swallow and Sam watches the way his eyes water up with the slight burn. "Which is totally my fault." He says, mumbling, looking down into his glass.

"Dean..." Sam starts.

"Don't Dean me," he says with a sharp tone to his voice but a sad, embarrassed air about him, "I know it's my fault, you're right, I shouldn't have ever left it under my pillow."

Sam shakes his head, "It got broken because we brought it to use against Dagon, not because Cas stole it from under your pillow so...officially not your fault."

Sam loves the way Dean's whole face lights up and his frame relaxes. He can apparently do something right. Dean nods slowly, not allowing himself to fully show the enormous amount of guilt Sam's words had taken off him, takes another sip of his whiskey.

Sam settles back again, enjoying Dean's reassured confidence and gentle protection beside him. "You know," he says, with a smirk in his lips. "Even though we didn't get to use the plan it was a pretty ingenious one...I still can't believe I figured it out. I think it calls for celebration and at least one night off!"

He laughs, is only joking but Dean holds up his cup and Sam clinks his mug to it. "You're exactly right." Dean says smiling. "It was ingenious, maybe we'll have the chance to try it out one day."

Sam blushes and looks down as he drinks another swallow of tea, he can feel Dean watching him, that big brother besmitten 'you are adorable' look on his face. Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes lest Dean catches on and gets embarrassed and leaves.

Dean tosses back the rest of his whiskey and lets his head fall back on the cabinets, his eyes hooded with approaching sleep. Dean sighs contentedly and Sam revels in the way he trusts him enough to be so off guard after their day, after Cas. How their shoulders meet and Dean's ever so slightly leaning into him, and it makes Sam's chest ache in another way...a good way.

"So we talked lover boy," Dean says sleepily, folding his arms over his chest, his eyes sliding the rest of the way shut, "What do we do now?"

"What is it? How do you say it?" Sam asks with a fond smile bending his lips, "Screw our lives, let's get some sleep."

Dean rolls his head to one side laughing as it falls sleepily to Sam's shoulder, and no, Sam doesn't mind if it hurts just a little bit.

...the end.

HOPE YA'LL ENJOYED!? REVIEW!? ;);)

I usually try not to get envovled with the arguments and opinions in this fandom...and I try not to be too critical of the Tv Show since it's a free fandom but am I the only one that is wondering wtf is going on? My heart is breaking as it feels like we're losing sight of some of our most important aspects of the show! Dean is entirely disregarded and stripped of almost all respect, self or otherwise. And I'm just frankly wondering how writers can be handed characters like Sam and Dean Winchester and do absolutely NOTHING with them. My boys deserve more than that...Jared and Jensen deserve more than that. I'm just sad...please please get better SUPERNATURAL :( ! Okay I'm shutting up, bye;)

(((To be continued with a rewrite of the first chapter, requested to have both hurt Sam and hurt Dean.)))


	3. Part 3

Part 3. (Part 1 Rewrite)

Sam wakes up first. He remembers nothing but Cas' fingers lifting and coming towards him. _Cas._ Even Sam is feeling a little like going out for blood. His head is fuzzy, his limbs sluggish, the burning of his busted ribs lacing through his chest. His groans as he flips over on on his stomach and push himself up from the ground. He presses a hand to his forehead and holds another out for balance.

"Dean?" He calls, eyes shut against the spinning earth under him and the twirling trees above him. He gives himself a minute, standing still waiting for his body to get used to itself and they injuries he'd sustained.

"Dean!" He calls again, just before finally opening his eyes. The broken bench lays before him the rest of the playground under the sweeping branches of a tree behind that, just feet away from him the remnants of the colt lay on the ground he swallows thickly looking at it, filled with regret and sadness. But Dean is no where in sight, with a hand still pressed against his forehead as if that could somehow keep his vision from blurring and doing summersaults, Sam turns.

He forgets about his head, he forgets about his ribs and Cas and the Colt. Dean lies in the dirt, eyes shut, lashes on pale cheeks, freckles standing out in the gathering morning light. He shivers, registering how chilly he is, knows Dean, who always ran cooler than him, is much colder than that.

Sam feels nauseous as he remembers the sickening crack of Dean's arm breaking, and the awkward way he'd held it, the wrinkles and lines of pain in his face, the emptiness of his eyes cluing Sam into the way Dean had boxed up the pure agony and kept going. Cas had healed him...but then he'd put Sam out and as the younger Winchester falls to his knees beside his brother and pulls him into his arms to share body heat he wonders what he missed.

Dean should wake up with him if Cas did the same thing to them both right? Sam hates the coolness of Dean's skin but his breaths are moving peacefully in and out of his body, so he pulls Dean's head tight up to his chest, cradled in the hollow of his elbow. He gently takes the arm that had been fractured in his other hand and rolls up the sleeves on it carefully. Checks it for any sign of injury, he's sighs with relief to find it safe and sound, perfectly healthy.

"At least you did one thing right," Sam growls out to Cas, hopping he can hear him, because seriously Sam's pissed. Dean is limp and unconscious in his arms, he doesn't know what happened after he fell to the ground into sleep. Cas had left them defenseless and vulnerable at the angel gate all night, left them lying in the dirt...after everything they did, everything they've done.

They deserved better than that. Dean deserved better than that.

He clenches his fist even when he feels his fingernails biting into the tender skin of his palm, the burning in his chest with every breath only adds to his fury. He shivers, the air clouding with their warm breaths and Sam looks down into Dean's face, wonders if he could get Dean back to the impala in his condition.

"Dean," Sam rocks him gently in his harms, "Dean, need you to wake up man." His brother gives no response, merely breaks his steady rhythm of breath, pauses and seems to listen for Sam again before slipping back under. He shakes Dean again, within his warm arms, "Dean, its Sammy. Busted my ribs all to hell, need you to come back..."

He sighs deep and looks up to the every lightening sky, they needed to get out of here before the rest of the world started waking up. Above them a bird starts singing and Sam smile listening to it, somewhere a little farther away a rooster crows, another bird adds into the chorus...it happens the way it has always been. Nature and creation soothe over the Winchester's stretched nerves, cradles them within their age roughened embrace and the brother's, having never know anything better, treasures it.

Sam welcomes the immediate warmth of the rising sun. It inches towards them along the ground and when it finally bathes them in its warm yellow light Sam shivers with the warmth that spreads over his skin, smiles at the way it accents Dean's freckles and the blond in his eyelashes, he'd be so mad if he were awake and knew Sam's thoughts.

That fond thought makes him freeze. He looks down at Dean, watching the breaths ease in and out of him, Dean should had long woken up by now. His hearts stutters in his chest and he finds his hands unconsciously fisted in his brother's coat. He grits his teeth as he slides to his knees as he slips an arm under Dean's knees.

"Imma kill you for this Cas, I swear," he manages in a breathless whisper as he pushes to his feet with Dean in his arms. The pain in his sides and chest making black spots swim in his sight. And just manages to keep from crashing them both back to the ground. He takes deep breaths, concentrates looking at Dean's face.

"Hope you know how much I love you, bro," he pants out, making for the impala. "Cuz it's like a lot, like 'as much as you weigh and more' a lot."

He frowns when Dean doesn't even stir, he rolls his eyes to mask the fear he's feeling, "Seriously dude, I'm trying to talk to you here."

He huffs in relief when he gets to the car, leaning their combined weight against her side. He fumbles for the door handle and when he gets it, he kicks the door open with his foot, "Sorry," he grunts under his breaths and he's not entirely sure if was for Dean or actually for the car. He rolls his eyes at himself again.

He holds his breaths as he lifts Dean again and somehow manages to sit him in the passenger seat. His brother slumps to the side and remains unconscious. Sam stands and gasps through the agony and the screaming of his lungs, his eye trained on Dean's face the whole time waiting for signs that's he's waking, coming back to him. Dean lies on his side on the front seat, his legs at an odd angle but Sam doesn't dare lean over again to fix them for fear he'll pass out for real. He leans against Baby's frame beside the open door to catch his breath.

He talks to Dean. Talks to him about the Colt, about Dagon, about Cas...pours out the betrayal and the hurt and the confusion in his heart. Talks about Kelly and the Nephilim, talks about his fears and doubts...whispers how glad he is they're together in this, how he doesn't care that this life has cost them their mother, and that one day she'll come around or she'll realize what an awesome opportunity she missed out on.

"I could tell you all this in person if you' just wake up," he scolds fondly, looking down to Dean's still form. "Though I probably never would...makes you too uncomfortable, has anyone ever told you that you're the actual girl between the two of us?"

He sighs in frustration as silence is his only answer. Worry causes anger to flood through his veins and he fishes his phone out of his pocket speed dialing Cas' number. It predictably goes to voice mail but that doesn't stop Sam.

"Cas, what the hell did you do to Dean? He won't wake up. Call me back."

Sam sighs tossing his phone into the car carelessly, turns and lifts his arms to run fingers through his hair even though it hurts like hell. "C'mon Dean," he says with his back still to his brother, "Please just wake up please...I need you to..."

"Sammy?" He hears quiet and muffled behind him, spins around to find Dean's eyes fluttering open, those emerald orbs the most beautiful sight he's ever seen.

"Dean?" He asks, voice soft with disbelief and relief. "Are you," he swallows around the catch in his throat, "Are you okay? You wouldn't wake up..." _you scared me._

Of course Dean hears it. That silent ending, that silent little brother cry, that same silent cry he'd sent out way too many times. He sits up smacking his lips, getting rid of the dryness in his mouth from sleep, he runs fingers through his hair and rubs his eyes making him look for the all the world like a little kid.

Sam watches the whole thing with his heart full to the bursting, the familiar, simple, everyday actions so beautiful to him as he watches Dean coming back to life. His gaze sharpens as it lands on Sam, and he's pulling himself out of the impala before the younger brother can even process it.

"Woah there Sammy." Dean is saying in his sleep roughened voice, reaching towards him, and his big, warm, rough hands locked into his biceps feel so good, so strong, so comforting. "Are you okay, you're as white as a ghost."

Sam thinks he laughs he's not sure, he's just watching the lively expressions crossing Dean's face, the light reflecting and glinting in his eyes, his lips quirking into a frown or a smirk. He thinks he might be hyperventilating, his chest burns and his vision is blacking out. He vaguely feels Dean pushing him down into the passenger seat of the impala with his legs hanging out. Feels Dean's hands on his face, can hear his name being called, muffled and far away.

He does however feel the burning slap to his cheek, he focuses suddenly on Dean's face, hold the cheek that is smarting sharply looking up to his big brother with wide eyes. Dean sighs with relief and pulls Sam's hand away from his cheek, smooths his hand down the red skin. Sam swallows, winces with the pain still lacing through his upper body.

"Sorry," Dean says, thumb catching a tear off his cheek from his eyes watering with his lack of breath. "Sorry, sorry...just you were about to pass out."

Sam nods, still inhaling quickly. Winces when Dean's hand lands on his chest but slowly begins to feel the weight every time he breathes in and it helps him to slow down, to calm himself. "W, wait," he stutters out, latching a hand around Dean's wrist. "Are you okay? Couldn't wake you up for a long time."

Dean nods, "I'm fine Sammy, how about you, what's up. You don't look so hot at all."

"My ribs." Sam answers simply.

"That freaking bench..." Dean mumbles, remembering back. Sam simply nods and Dean grits his teeth and clenches his fists, "That bitch better be glad she's dead."

Sam laughs but grimaces with the way it makes him ache, Dean allows his hand to rest on his head, fingers brush hair from his face. "Alright, lets get you home." He says softly, and Sam couldn't have wished for anything more.

He wraps his arms around himself for support as Dean climbs into the driver's eat and cranks Baby up. It would have hurt less to lay down in the back seat but there's no place Sam would rather be. This was his place, where he belonged, beside his brother driving the impala head on into the next apocalypse.

And no, he doesn't mind that it hurts like hell.

THE END.

Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed! REVIEW!? ;);) (just realizing that the finale is in 16 days and I'm freaking out)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAM WINCHESTER!:):) I understand you better and love you more at the end of each and every day...Thank you so much for being the best little brother ever, your loyalty, your sacrifice and your inspiration! :):)

 _((Written for Zeva Lynn from this rewrite prompt:_

 _I love this! Could you possibly do one where it takes Dean a lot longer to wake up and Sam having to carry him to the car even though he is hurt himself. Lots of fret and worrying and anger. I love hurt Dean and concerned furious Sammy! Especially since Sam was already out so he has no idea what Cas did to Dean.))_


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